Angel of Mercy
by Muse10
Summary: The thief loved the priest.  The thief killed the priest.  The priest did not mind. AU


Disclaimer: Don't own Yu-gi-oh.

Summary: _The thief loved the priest. The thief killed the priest. The priest did not mind._

This isn't my usual fandom, but I was randomly inspired and decided to post this anyway. The title comes from watching too many crime dramas; an "Angel of Mercy" is a killer who believes their victim wants to die and needs the killer's help to do so.

* * *

"_Would you betray me to the pharaoh, if you were given the chance? If you were forced to choose?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Don't you?"_

"…_yes. If I were forced to. And you? Would you choose the chance for your revenge over me?"_

"_Yes."_

**XXX**

He held out one arm, beckoning Seth to an embrace. And Seth knew very well what would happen, but he went anyway. He wrapped his arms around the thief and whispered in his ear, "Thank you." Because now there was no choice; he would never have to choose, he would not be the one to ruin them, to corrupt his soul. The thief said nothing, but Seth felt Bakura's mouth curve into a smile against his ear as the arms came around him and tightened for an instant. Then one arm loosened, and there was a bright, sharp pain in his back. Seth gasped, and for a moment he could not help the panic, his body disagreeing with the will of his mind and making a desperate bid for life. He couldn't stand, he couldn't breathe as blood filled his lungs and bubbled up into his mouth.

He collapsed against the thief, and there was a clamor as the dagger fell against the floor. Then Bakura held him tightly and eased them both to the ground. Seth tried to speak, but only blood and air came out. "Shh, shh," the thief whispered in Seth's ear. "Don't struggle, it won't take long."

And he did, because he knew the thief did not miss with those knives. The thief had not wanted him to cry out, betraying them even in death, and so he had made Seth incapable of uttering a sound louder than the breeze. The thief did not apologize for the pain, and Seth knew he was not sorry. Seth understood; pain was familiar to the thief, as was death. Bakura had hurt him out of practicality. In fact, Seth was certain that every moment of this was perfectly planned out, so he had nothing to worry for in his last moments.

He embraced the pain, forced his body to stop trying, and let his head rest against the thief's shoulder, feeling the soft brush of the white hair against his cheek as the thief turned his head. A hand left Seth's back, and slick fingers caressed his cheek, soft lips pressed against his own. He was sorry that all he could taste was his own blood, but their kisses had tasted like that before. He let his eyes slide half shut and pretended this was one of those other times, and he smiled. Then he sensed nothing.

**XXX**

Bakura stayed with the priest for a while longer after he was dead. He didn't cry, he didn't look upset; just contemplative. When at last he pulled the priest off of his shoulder, he found that the blue eyes were still half-open, staring at him, and the mouth was turned into a smile. Blood from the thief's fingers was smeared across his cheek, and for a moment Bakura could taste the blood on his lips and pretend it was just another one of their games. But wasn't it? He grinned. He had won. He got to keep the priest for himself _and_ he got to hurt the pharaoh.

Still smiling, he took one of the rings off of the priest's fingers and slipped it onto his own hand. He also took the cuff from the priest's wrist, the one he used to call upon ka monsters; he would need it in the future. However, the thief did not take the Millennium Rod. Not only was he unsure of its location, since the priest never had it when Bakura came to visit, but it didn't sit well with him to take what he had not earned. Not from the priest, anyway.

Then he sat in the growing pool of blood, stroking the priest's face, and waited. Not ten minutes later there was a light knock on the door. Bakura shifted his weight, ready to flee if anything changed too soon. The door opened and the servant girl who brought the priest his breakfast entered. She glanced around for a moment. "Priest Seth? My…oh!"

Bakura looked up slowly when he heard the girl squeak and the breakfast tray clatter to the floor. He had only seen her a few times before, and then from under the priest's bed or behind a curtain. She looked like every other girl to him, frozen with her arms still out as if they held the tray and gaping in horror at the thief kneeling in blood with the priest's body in his arms. He smiled wider, and, never taking his gaze off of the servant, leaned down and kissed the priest, letting his tongue slide out to lick the blood on the priest's lips.

He gently moved Seth's body from his lap to the floor, then stood up and walked over to the trembling girl. Bakura leaned down until his bloody lips were up against her ear. "Go on," he whispered. "Scream!"

The girl shrieked and fled back into the corridor. Laughing, Bakura grabbed his cloak from the bed and fled out the window. He paused once to look back at Seth, without regret, then slipped away into the soft light of dawn. By the time the guards ran into the room, the thief was long gone, leaving only a set of bloody footprints that led out the window.

Part of him wished to stay longer, if only to see the look on the pharaoh's face when he discovered his dead priest, but Bakura was too smart for such risks. They would never understand; he had done nothing wrong. It was the very reason none of those fools had sensed him as danger with their items. Surely that was a sign from the gods that he was in the right. Not that he needed approval from any power. Bakura would do as he pleased, would play these dangerous games because they amused him, and he would win.

No, it did not hurt to know that Seth had died by his hand. A willing sacrifice to the graveyard always came back to a necromancer, even if it took three thousand years.


End file.
